Note: I know OUAT is long dead and the time for OUAT fanfics is mostly gone, and it probably looked like I would never continue this. I didn't think I would! But I still think about OUAT from time to time and come back to read my works on here from time to time, mostly to compare to my current writing. I kept thinking about how this one might go. I dunno. Hope you like it. Please review, good or bad; it keeps me motivated to keep going.

Present Day – Regina's POV

Regina hadn't meant to fall in love. Taking Emma, raising her right under Snow and Charming's noses, was supposed to be a sort of cruel irony. It was supposed to taste like sweet revenge.

Well, it still was cruel irony, in a way. But it only tasted like pain.

Regina crumpled the note Emma had left for her in her fist. The girl had snaked her way into Regina's heart and tied the broken pieces together with a bow. She loved Regina just because, no ifs, or buts, or questions. Or, at least, she had. And damn it, against all odds, Regina loved her back.

Regina already had the letter memorized. It was only eight words.

I'm sorry, it said. I need to find my mom.

The last two words hit Regina like a mallet each time she read the note, which had been torn haphazardly from a spiral-bound notebook and scribbled in green pen. My mom. As if Regina hadn't spent every moment of the last fifteen years changing every diaper, soothing every fever, enduring every tantrum, and loving her with everything she had.

Regina clawed at her chest. In Emma's absence, the delicate ribbon that held her heart together was pulling apart, and she could feel it slowly shattering into pieces. She was sure the girl had taken a piece of it with her, too, and no matter how long she would spend trying to rebuild herself, she would never be whole again without Emma.

Regina launched herself from Emma's bed and flew down the stairs, not bothering to grab a jacket to fend off the bitter cold that would be awaiting her outside. She threw the door open with so much vigor that it slammed back on its hinges and ricocheted back toward her.

Her chest constricted. Her walkway suddenly felt far too long, and her vision narrowed to include only the black Mercedes parked on the street as she quickened her pace.

"Oh!" a voice cried as Regina rounded the corner onto the sidewalk and collided with a warm body.

Regina stepped back to get a better look at the person she had bumped into.

"Madam Mayor, I'm so sorry!" Mary Margaret stuttered. "I wasn't watching where I was—"

She stopped when she noticed the wild, wide-eyed expression Regina's face. Somewhere deep inside herself, Regina knew she hated the woman standing in front of her, but she didn't have it in her to call these feelings back to the surface.

Mary Margaret searched Regina's eyes. "Regina, what's wrong?" she asked.

Regina knew she should scold Mary Margaret for her breach of formality, but all she could focus on was the thought of Emma's figure receding from view as she fled Storybrooke.

"Have you seen Emma?" The words came pushed out in one breath, mashed together, lacking their normal haughty composure.

Mary Margaret appeared taken aback for a moment. "Emma?" she repeated, then paused thoughtfully. "No, why? Is she okay?"

Regina couldn't stop the tears from welling up in her eyes. "No. She ran away," she choked out, then pulled the wadded paper from her pocket and thrust it toward the short-haired woman.

Mary Margaret gently took the note from Regina's outstretched hand and unfolded it, taking a moment to read the hastily written words. Her eyes flitted back up to Regina, who was clearly fighting hard to keep it together.

"Oh, Regina," Mary Margaret said, again choosing to ignore her formal title. "I'm so sorry."

That was all it took. Regina felt as if a weight crashed down upon her, breaking her. Her chest heaved with uncontrollable sobs. It felt as if all the oxygen had been suddenly removed from the air around her.

She was only vaguely aware of whom she was crying in front when she felt herself being pulled into an embrace. She hadn't realized how cold she was until she was pressed against the heavily bundled person.

Mary Margaret rubbed Regina's back soothingly while Regina struggled to get herself under control.

"It's okay, Regina," Mary Margaret assured her. "We'll find Emma. We'll bring her home."

Home, but to whom? Regina wondered as another hiccupping sob bubbled from her chest.

Present Day – Emma's POV

Emma checked for the sixtieth time to make sure the fistful of cash she had taken from Regina's wallet was still securely tucked into her pants pocket. She had emptied all the cash from the wallet, knowing Regina had plenty more to speak of. It wasn't a lot, but Emma hoped it would be enough until she could get herself on her feet and start looking for her mother.

She sighed and leaned her head against the bus window, fighting off the sleep that threatened to drag her under. She had no idea where to start looking. All she knew was that her birthmother wasn't in Storybrooke; hers was a closed adoption, and the town was far too small for there to be any sort of closure in that respect.

Emma had never been outside Storybrooke. She and Regina had discussed doing a big trip when she graduated high school, but well, she supposed that was out the window now.

She had a vague sense that New York City was a place where things got done, so she had packed her bag with some snacks and meager possessions and snuck out of the mansion before the sun rose that morning.

There was a public bus stop in Storybrooke, but never once in her life had she seen a bus actually stop there. So, she walked her bike far enough to be sure that the sound of the wheels on the pavement wouldn't wake Regina and rode the rest of the way out of Storybrooke.

The next landmark outside of Storybrooke was almost twenty miles away, and Emma was sweating profusely by the time she got there and parked her bike. She stepped off her bike and quickly grabbed for the rails of the bike rack as her legs began quivering beneath her.

When she had steadied herself enough, she glanced at the building before her. It was a diner, painted in a layer of peeling pink paint, an "OPEN" sign flashing cheerily in the window.

She pushed the door to the diner open, and a bell rang above her head. An apron-clad hostess appeared before her, frowning at Emma's disheveled appearance. She apparently shrugged it off, though, and grabbed a menu from behind the kiosk.

"Just you, doll?" she asked, popping her gum.

"Yes," Emma rasped back. She was parched from her long ride.

"Booth or table?"

Emma shrugged noncommittally, and the hostess rolled her eyes slightly. She led Emma to a two-person booth in the corner of the restaurant and slid the menu in front of her.

"Your waitress will be with you soon, doll," she said.

Emma studied the menu thoughtfully. She could smell bacon frying in the kitchen, and her stomach rumbled. She had skipped breakfast in an effort to slip out unnoticed.

A woman with fiery red hair approached her. She held a notepad in one hand.

"Hi," she greeted Emma. "My name is Maisie. I'll be your waitress this morning. Can I get you anything to drink?"

Emma bobbed her head rapidly. "Yes, water, please. And I'm ready to order, if you don't mind?"

"Sure, hon," Maisie answered cheerfully. "What would you like?"

"Bacon, please," Emma said quickly. "And scrambled eggs. And toast. And potatoes. And, actually, a hot chocolate with cinnamo—"

"Woah, kid, slow down there," Maisie laughed as she tried to keep up with Emma's rapid-fire order on her notepad. "Don't your parents feed you?"

Emma's face flushed red at this, and she looked away from Maisie, out the window at where her bike was parked.

"Never mind," Emma said to her blurred reflection in the clear glass. "I'll just have some eggs and toast, please."

Maisie realized she had said something to upset the blonde teenager seated in front of her and immediately tried to backtrack.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "You order whatever you damn well please."

Emma looked back at her then, a tinge of sadness in her eyes but the flush fading from her cheeks. She said nothing, so Maisie nodded and walked off to pass her order along to the kitchen.

Present Day – Regina's POV

Regina studied the map stretched out on her table. She had wanted to just get in her car and drive, but she knew that would be a terrible decision. She had very little knowledge of the world outside of the town that her curse had created. Emma had the upper hand; she had grown up in this world. She had taken geography classes at school.

Regina slammed her palm down on the desk so hard that her crystal decanter rattled. Why were there so many damn roads, so many damn cities? Sure, there was only one way out of Storybrooke, but once she got far enough, everything branched out like cords on a spider's web.

For the first time ever, Regina was feeling suffocated by her own curse. There was no magic here for her to use to find Emma. Nor could she ask any of the inhabitants to help search for her; they couldn't leave the town. She was on her own and up against a world so very different from any of the ones she was used to.

"Regina?" a soft voice spoke up.

Regina sighed. She had forgotten Snow — Mary Margaret, rather — had followed her into her study.

"I don't know what to do," Regina admitted, still staring at the map. Her voice felt small in her chest.

She looked into Mary Margaret's eyes then, and she could see Emma staring back at her through them.

Regina blew out another slow sigh. She wished, then, that she could wake Snow. She was sure that Snow would be able to find Emma when Regina couldn't. The Charmings would find each other. They always did.

Mary Margaret stepped forward and pulled the map from the bureau, then folded it neatly back into shape.

"Let's just talk for a moment. Staring at a bunch of windy roads isn't helping us right now."

Regina's eyes lay fixated on the folded map. She stood, poised like a statuette.

Realizing Regina was just barely aware of her presence, Mary Margaret took one of Regina's hands in hers and led her the sofa. Regina sunk reluctantly down into the upholstered surface. Snow hesitated, wondering if she should take the seat beside Regina on the sofa or sit in the chair opposite her.

She had made up her mind and started for the chair when she felt a hand wrap around her wrist. She turned to face Regina.

"Please," Regina whispered, her eyes desperate.

Mary Margaret thought Regina wasn't even sure what, exactly, she was asking for, but she nodded anyway and sat down by the mayor. Regina slid over to give her more room to sit.

"Where do you think Emma would think to go first?" Mary Margaret asked gently.

"I don't know," Regina replied, shaking her head. Locks of black hair fell into her eyes, obscuring her vision, and she brushed them away. "What do you think?"

Mary Margaret looked down at her hands then, which were neatly folded in her lap. She shrugged lightly. "I'm not sure; I don't know her very well. I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry," Regina said quietly.

Present Day – Emma's POV

As soon as the icy glass of water was set in front of her, Emma downed it and slammed it back on the table. Maisie regarded her with a cocked eyebrow as she poured another helping into the glass. Emma downed that one, too, and wiped her chin where the water had dribbled down.

"I'm thirsty," Emma said obviously.

"No kidding," Maisie said back, refilling the glass again. "I'll just leave the pitcher with you."

Emma smiled at her, and this made Maisie feel slightly better about putting her foot in her mouth earlier.

"Your order should be out soon," Maisie added.

Emma nodded, and Maisie turned to attend to other tables. Emma rose from her booth and headed for the bathroom. It was a single-seater, and as she shut and locked the door behind her, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. She understood now the disdainful look from the hostess when she had first walked in. She had flyway hairs everywhere, sweat stains on her shirt, and dirt on her shoes and shins from riding on the backroads. She looked truly bedraggled.

Emma hurriedly pulled some toiletries from her bag and laid them out on the tiny sink in front of her. She combed back her unruly hairs, washed her face with the freezing sink water and bathroom soap, and did her best to pat-dry her sweaty torso with handfuls of paper towels. She smeared a layer of deodorant on her arms and wrinkled her nose, hoping that this would at least keep people from plugging their noses as she passed by.

When she emerged from the bathroom, her food was waiting for her at the table. She grinned, realizing that Maisie had brought her whole order and not just the eggs and toast.

Emma ate quickly. This was partially because she was hungry, but she also knew Regina would realize Emma was gone and come looking for her at any moment, and her Mercedes was a hell of a lot faster than Emma's bike. The diner was bound to be the first place she would stop to look for Emma; it was the first stop, period, on the two-lane highway that served as the only exit point from Storybrooke.

When her plates were empty, Emma signaled for Maisie. The woman came over to her and admired the dishes that, only minutes before, had been piled with more food than she'd thought the tiny girl capable of eating.

"I see you hated it," Maisie quipped. Emma giggled at this. "Can I get you anything else?" Maisie added.

Emma shook her head. "No, thank you," she replied and reached for the bills in her pocket. "I'd like to pay and leave now."

Maisie stopped her with a hand on her wrist. Emma looked back at her from the stack of bills, confused.

"It's on me," she explained, smiling down at Emma. Emma grinned back at her.

"You don't have to do that, you know. I have money."

Maisie shrugged.

"Well, thank you," Emma replied. She pulled a few bills from the stack and threw them down on the table regardless. "A tip, for such wonderful service." Emma paused for a moment, thinking. "Is there a bus stop nearby?" she asked.

Maisie nodded. "Yes, actually, right across the street." She gestured vaguely at the diner entrance. "The stops are pretty limited, though."

"That's fine; I can figure it out. Do you happen to know when the next one is?"

Maisie checked her watch, regarding the hands as they ticked along on her wrist. "Hmm, you're in luck," she responded. "Probably about five minutes."